


Working Relationship

by Vorvayne



Series: People Are Hard [1]
Category: Bleach
Genre: M/M, Office Sex, Porn With Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-12
Updated: 2013-08-12
Packaged: 2017-12-23 07:11:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/923431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vorvayne/pseuds/Vorvayne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They have sex, yes. But Byakuya is not going to let unnecessary intimacy interfere with their working relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Working Relationship

**Author's Note:**

> It finally here! Thank you so much to the folks on my tumblr who cheered me on while I was writing this/going insane/pulling all-nighters and having Feelings all over my keyboard. 
> 
> HUGE thanks go to Lucymonster, without whom this would not be even half as good. All remaining mistakes are mine.

 

“On your knees,” Byakuya says.

It’s late, dark already, and by rights they should both have headed home hours ago with the rest of the sixth. But Byakuya has been in his office, and Renji in his next door. Byakuya doesn’t know what Renji came through to say or do; it doesn’t matter, anyway. Perhaps he even came through for this.

Renji sinks to his knees immediately, even gracefully; he’s had practice. It’s a similar motion to the whip-like extension of Zabimaru’s shikai, and the smooth momentum-preserving movements Renji has developed to control his bankai. These days, the rough appearance and crude speech with a lingering Inuzuri accent fails to fool Byakuya into thinking his fighting is equally unpolished.

Renji kneels, knees apart, spine and head straight but eyes cast downward. He is waiting patiently for Byakuya to move, and Byakuya certainly wants to. The sight is…tempting. Does Renji know that all of him is tempting? Brash, insubordinate manner, and the way he fights, and then – the way he kneels at Byakuya’s feet. He will never ask; they don’t talk at these times. They hardly talk at all, in fact – Byakuya spends much more time watching Renji than conversing with him, and though Renji addresses him when he walks past and chats about division business casually enough, Byakuya occasionally catches a heavy-lidded expression cast his way that doesn’t even pretend to be casual.

As he frees his cock from the folds of his hakama and slides into Renji’s mouth, he wonders what Renji is getting out of this. It must be something, or he wouldn’t come to Byakuya’s office late at night, and his breath would not catch when Byakuya slides a hand into loose red hair. Renji’s eyes close, and his expression softens. His hands are behind his back and his throat is relaxed, without Byakuya having to say a word. Renji is skilled, when Byakuya allows him to be an active participant, and he always knows when he is not allowed.

Byakuya fucks Renji’s throat slowly and deeply, appreciating how Renji swallows around him, his hand in Renji’s hair holding firmly. He can and has done this fast and merciless at the end of a long trying day, but he will not today, even though Renji holds up remarkably well to the punishment. He is always surprised when Renji comes back afterwards. But Byakuya does not think too hard about what it is that Renji wants, not after the first time Renji fell roughly into seiza and said, “Let me. Please,” in a voice like cut glass.

The memory brings him close to orgasm, and he places a light guiding hand on Renji’s jaw, observing the flickering of Renji’s eyelids at the contact. He falls in slow motion, and Renji swallows, catching him.

He tucks himself away, and this is where Renji would normally rise, bow, and leave, but Renji is still kneeling. His eyes flick upwards to Byakuya’s face, but he looks back down at his own hands in his lap to say, “You know, you could fuck me, if you wanted.” He does not wait for a response, just bows from kneeling, and rises to leave.

The night servants are on duty when Byakuya arrives home, and he orders some tea and retires. As he falls asleep, he wonders briefly what Renji does when he goes home.

 

=

 

Byakuya arrives promptly as ever at the sixth the next morning, and finds that Renji is already in his own office. The only others in the division barracks are two unseated officers practising outside, and Byakuya thinks  they might be two of the new recruits. Renji would know their names.

A knock at the doorframe, and Renji comes in bearing a larger-than-usual pile of paperwork. “This month’s requisition forms, filled in. They just need your signature, Taichou.” He waits just inside the door until Byakuya gestures him forward, where he places the stack on one corner of the large desk then retreats.

Renji scratches the back of his neck. “Taichou, the new recruits have their last day of orientation today, if you wanted to come take a look. Some of them are pretty good.”

“I should hope so,” Byakuya says. “I may make a brief appearance.”

“All right,” Renji flashes him a grin and walks off, Zabimaru settled at his hip.

If Renji is trying to tell him something, Byakuya has no idea what it is. Renji’s manner with him has not changed in the slightest these past months, and Byakuya would commend his fukutaichou’s professionalism if there were some way of doing so without talking about it.

Renji’s grin lingers in his mind as he signs an endless pile of paperwork, writes a letter to his aunt confirming his attendance at the Kuchiki family dinner next week, and briefly favours the new recruits with his presence at their training session. One or two do have a little potential – though not the few whose knees wobbled when he allowed his reiatsu to flare a fraction.

He does not expect Renji to approach him again that night, and though he knows he could just tell his fukutaichou to go home, he supposes he has stayed late again for a reason. Byakuya reaches up and removes Renji’s hair tie, noting a small intake of breath. Experimentally, he combs his fingers through it, and observes Renji’s small shudders.  This is not the way he usually takes things, and he knows that all he has to do is say so or tug Renji’s hair and Renji will settle into seiza wordlessly, but – perhaps there is merit in Renji’s suggestion after all. There need be no unwanted intimacy. Perhaps it will be all right to indulge Renji – and, if he is honest, he has thought about this too.

He looks at Renji, whose eyes are cast downward, and allows pleasurable anticipation to pool low in his belly. Yes, he wants this, more than he had anticipated. This time, it might be all right to have what he wants. He takes a handful of Renji’s hair at the base of his skull, and uses it to direct Renji until he’s bent over the desk. Byakuya pauses to confirm that none of his paperwork will be crushed, the height of the desk is workable, and the hand lotion in his desk drawer will make a suitable lubricant. Then he takes Renji’s hands and wraps then around the far edge of the desk, above his head. The hands stay when Byakuya removes his own. Message received: _hold on_. _Don’t move_.

Byakuya reaches round to the ties of Renji’s hakama and undoes them, noting the hardness underneath the folds of cloth. He tugs, and the material falls to pool around Renji’s ankles, then he lifts the shihakusho to bunch around Renji’s waist. It’s a lot more of Renji’s exposed skin than Byakuya has seen before, and all of it is smooth, taut with the muscle underneath, and blackened in places with tattoo ink, curving around his thighs and ass in more tribal patterns. Byakuya arranges his own clothing, and slicks his cock thoroughly; he has no intention of preparing Renji, but does not wish to injure him. He pushes in a little way very slowly, until a pained moan from Renji distracts him. Of course: this way, Renji’s mouth is free, and – this was not a good idea. He should stop and send Renji away. But Renji’s body is tight and warm around him, and seems to almost be pulling him in, so he continues, ignoring Renji’s senseless sounds until he is all the way in. He settles there for a moment to allow Renji’s body to acclimatise, though it is difficult, but when he begins to move, Renji makes more gasped out sounds. It takes more slow, experimental movements to determine that the sounds are pleasure-sounds, though more harsh and strained than the moans a woman makes during sex.

He relaxes a little then and fucks Renji more forcefully, holding Renji’s hips tightly for purchase and enjoying the shuddering of the body beneath him. Renji’s knuckles are white where he is gripping the table, and the sounds he makes in time with Byakuya’s rough thrusts become louder and more strained. Abandoning any pretence of gentleness, Byakuya is pulled closer to the edge, and he briefly contemplates pulling Renji to his knees and coming his mouth, before the image of his own come dripping down Renji’s thighs as he walks home overtakes him. He finds himself out of breath afterwards, a little sweat on his brow and kenseikan beginning to slip. He withdraws, and rearranges himself.

Renji’s knees buckle as he retrieves his hakama and ties them. Byakuya is fully composed by the time Renji looks round at him, and Renji is – not. His hair falls over his face, damp at the roots where he sweated, and his face is pink and slightly abraded from the desk. There is still a bulge at the front of his hakama, and he looks altogether wild and breathless. Byakuya suddenly wants to repeat the experiment, and savagely this time, sinking teeth into Renji’s shoulder and dragging sharp nails down his back, one hand painfully tight in Renji’s hair and the other digging into one hip. He shakes his head to clear the image, and suddenly Renji is on the floor, bowing at Byakuya’s feet. “Arigatou, Taichou,” he says, and gets up and leaves, gait only a little awkward.

Byakuya sits down in his chair, and doesn’t move for a long time.

 

= 

  

The dinner is calmly and unobtrusively disastrous.

Arikasu has been spending too much money again, and no one can think of a way of keeping him out of trouble without causing some sort of scandal. Ishizuka has horrified her whole family by declaring her intention to become a Shinigami, despite being far and away the most beautiful and talented Kuchiki daughter, and her mother and father look to Byakuya to support their case that she should devote her efforts elsewhere. Then, to add insult to injury, his aunt Suza declared in front of everyone that Byakuya is in need of a wife, subtler overtures over the past few decades having proved ineffective.

Byakuya is _not_ in need of a wife. He wouldn’t know what to do with one: treat her as he had Hisana? Impossible. He could not stomach sleeping next to someone he feels nothing for, and he has not even come close to loving anyone since Hisana. Perhaps he isn’t capable of feeling like that, these days.

He is head of the Kuchiki clan, and no one can force him to do anything anymore.

He leaves as early as he reasonably can, begging a captain’s workload. The small amount of food he managed to eat is congealing unpleasantly in his stomach. His feet take him back to his office at the sixth, rather than his own wing at Kuchiki manor, and he can see Renji standing over his desk, arranging a few last things before turning in.

He turns round. “Taichou!” A half-bow in greeting. “I thought you’d gone home.”

“Family business,” Byakuya says, heading for his own office. He hears Renji’s footsteps behind him. “I still have some things to take care of here.”

He turns, and Renji almost walks into him, stopping abruptly inches from Byakuya’s face. He can see every muscle in Renji’s throat as he swallows. Byakuya reaches past and closes the door of his office, then turns back round to look at Renji.

“Is there anything I can do, Taichou?”

 _Yes_. Byakuya reaches forward and undoes Renji’s obi, allowing the Shihakusho to fall open. He drops the obi on the floor, and slides the Shihakusho off Renji’s shoulders a moment later, and then Renji is standing before him, topless and flushed and tattooed like a Rukongai gang member. It occurs to Byakuya that, though he has seen Renji topless before, it has never been – under these circumstances. The savage thing that has been tearing at his insides all evening rises, demanding release. Parts of him scream that this is a terrible idea, but this whole liaison is a terrible idea, and he is of course a _failed_ student of self-control.

He wants to tear at the skin of Renji’s neck with his teeth, and invade Renji’s mouth with his tongue – or rather, the savage thing is the thing that wants. He undoes the ties of Renji’s hakama, and they slip to the floor, snagging on Renji’s erection. Renji stands in front of him, eyes lowered and face flushed, but with no attempt to hide himself. Firm pressure on his shoulder and Renji drops to his knees again. Byakuya finds a folded blanket, and uses Renji’s hair to push him to the floor, blanket under his hips to raise them. He nudges Renji’s legs apart and settles between them, dragging fingernails lightly down Renji’s naked back, spreading shudders through him, and then again, more firmly. Byakuya’s nails leave faint red lines, and perhaps if he is forceful enough they will still be there tomorrow, felt but unseen under Renji’s Shihakusho.

He has had enough of patience, so he slicks himself, leans forward and pushes in, holding Renji’s hips in place firmly. Renji’s body jerks, and more of those pained, senseless sounds are forced from his throat as Byakuya buries himself completely in Renji’s body, letting out one slow breath to steady himself.

But his heartbeat will not be steadied, and he realises his fingers are pinching Renji’s hips in a way that must be painful, so he moves them to Renji’s ribs, leaving behind more red marks and fingernail impressions. He begins to move, trying for a moderate pace and failing utterly, and he is holding on to Renji’s ribs so tightly the skin has lifted in a flesh grab, and Renji is cursing incoherently and scrabbling at the wooden floor for purchase that does not exist. Perhaps the hopelessness of holding back strikes him then, because he allows his desire to dictate the pace, punishingly hard, and he digs one hand into Renji’s hip and allows the other to drag up and down Renji’s back.

It’s difficult to support himself like this, and so he leans over Renji and places one hand on the floor. This close, Renji smells of sweat and sex and himself, and it’s odd and unfamiliar and before he can think about it, something like a _snarl_ comes from his throat and he sinks his teeth viciously into the join of Renji’s neck and shoulder.

Blood thunders in his ears, and perhaps across his vision, and it takes him a moment to register that Renji _howls_ and jerks beneath him in orgasm, pulling Byakuya with him.

The twisted darkness melts away from his vision, and then he’s just leaning far too close to a naked Renji, trying to catch his breath.

His breathing still hasn’t entirely calmed down even though he’s lying alone in his own bed in Kuchiki manor. He’d stood and cleaned himself up efficiently as ever, and placed Renji’s hakama and shihakusho next to him, expecting him to rise and dress and leave as he always did.

Instead, Renji rolled over lazily and gave him a contented smile, eyes half-lidded as though he could happily fall asleep right there in Byakuya’s office. It was even more horrifyingly intimate than the sex, and Byakuya looked away to speak. “I will see you in the morning, Renji.”

Then, if he is honest, he _fled_.   

Byakuya resolves to think no more on the matter, and go to sleep.

 

= 

 

Byakuya isn’t sure whether to be pleased or resigned that Ukitake has come by for tea; the man’s company is pleasant, but he often cannot be prevailed upon to leave, and Byakuya has work to do.  Work that he should have done this morning, and hasn’t.

However, he has brought tea, and Byakuya would release Senbonzakura for a caffeinated beverage just now. 

He plays dutiful host and pours the tea, and finds himself listening to Ukitake warmly praise Rukia for being an excellent fukutaichou.

“…and it’s such a relief to have someone implementing the division’s training regime so efficiently! We haven’t been so well-organised since Kaien-kun was around.” Byakuya sips his tea, thinking of Ukitake’s useless third seats. He would not have tolerated the absurd situation for a moment. He supposes it was very difficult to find an adequate replacement for Shiba-fukutaichou; still, a mediocre replacement would have been better than the endless ridiculous bickering and inefficiency of those two. Byakuya wonders what he would do if Renji died.

“I am pleased that my sister is performing her duties well,” he says, putting his tea down. Surely, it is responsible for the lead weight in his stomach, or perhaps it’s the lack of sleep. He would – request a replacement as soon as possible to maintain the sixth division’s running, though there is no one in all of Soul Society who could _adequately_ fill the gap where there should be Renji’s fierceness.  “I was initially unsure of Abarai-fukutaichou’s suitability, but he is very dedicated.” The nausea is not dissipating, so Byakuya picks up his tea again and takes a long sip.

“And this coming from you!” Ukitake laughs, and it turns into a few coughs which Byakuya politely ignores. “Rukia tells me she never sees you at Kuchiki manor, that you are always at work. Perhaps I can persuade you to relax.” He pauses. “I think that she is privately hoping you have found someone to spend time with.”

It is an effort not to choke on his mouthful of tea. Ukitake has the gall to smile serenely, as if he hasn’t just suggested that Byakuya needs to take a lover. No one warned him that this would be a week of uncomfortable questions about his private life, _private_ being the operative word.

Byakuya takes a deep breath, drains his tea and pours himself another cup. It seems he will be here for some time.

 

 

“…uh, Taichou? Taichou?” There’s a hand moving his shoulder, and Byakuya blinks, wondering why he can’t parse what’s going on.  
  
Oh. He’s currently sitting slumped over his desk with his face pressed awkwardly into an officer’s review form, where he seems to have been sleeping, since the sun is now setting. He sits up, attempting to find his dignity, and Renji removes his hand.

“Renji,” he says, looking round. “Is there something you need?”

Renji’s face is blank, but he’s chewing the corner of his mouth, and Byakuya would swear that his fukutaichou is _laughing at him_. “Nothing, Taichou. I’m just heading home, and I thought I’d wake you. You’d get an awful crick in your neck if you spent all night asleep on your desk.”

 _Ukitake_. Who added insult to injury by giving him _Chamomile tea_.

Byakuya stands abruptly, and Renji is right – his shoulders are tense and knotted. He will have to go home very late, again, and Rukia will simply assume that he was having some sort of sordid assignation. He could stay the night in his Captain’s room at the sixth, but that would invite even worse speculation.

Whatever else they do, Byakuya will not be spending the night with Renji.

Who is looking at him expectantly, waiting for – what? Oh. To be dismissed, or told to do something before he leaves, probably. “Goodnight, Renji,” Byakuya says.

“Goodnight, Taichou. Relax, get some proper sleep, eh?” Renji resettles Zabimaru at his hip and pulls his hair back into place where the tie has loosened.

Byakuya sighs. And he must not be entirely awake yet, because he says, “Why is it that everyone thinks I need to relax?”

Renji‘s grin will not be contained this time. “Everyone needs to relax sometimes, Taichou. Even you.” His smile falls away, and he looks Byakuya directly in the eye. Byakuya finds that his planned reply dies on his lips, and the moment of silence stretches on. Renji’s breathing, Byakuya thinks, sounds a little faster than it ought to be, and the room is just a fraction too warm. He should brush the sleep from his eyes and say something sharp and leave, and Renji’s tongue darts out a fraction to swipe across his bottom lip, and he takes a half-step forward and says, voice a little hoarse, “I can do something about that, if you like.”

Then he’s on his knees again, this time looking straight up at Byakuya’s face instead of respectfully down, and it feels like an invasion to be looked at like this.

Byakuya steps forward and takes hold of Renji’s ponytail, pulling tightly, and Renji’s eyes fall closed at last with a sharp intake of breath. It’s much better this way, but not nearly enough, and Byakuya breaks every single one of the resolutions he made this morning.

Renji is skilled at this, and Byakuya holds onto his hair with one hand and uses the other to brace himself against the edge of his desk, and the roughness of his own breaths sounds thunderously loud in his ears. He closes his eyes, bites down on the fleshy part of his palm, and holds on as orgasm shudders through him.

Before Byakuya can regain his bearings for the second time that day, Renji has tucked him away and rearranged his hakama. Then he bends forward and presses a brief kiss to the top of Byakuya’s foot. Byakuya swallows and takes a long breath, because this is all out of control and maybe if he can just get a handle on _himself_ , everything else will follow. But Renji rises and says, “Goodnight, Taichou,” as if his actions are entirely commonplace, and as he walks out the door, he tosses an almost shy smile over his shoulder.

 

=

 

The following day, Byakuya shuts himself in his office and has Words with himself.

This nonsense absolutely has to stop. And since it is almost entirely his own fault in the first place, it is also in his power to fix. After all, Renji has not pushed him a single inch; it is Byakuya’s own self-control which has failed him unforgivably, pulling him into ever greater intimacies, smothering his will to put a distance between himself and Renji. It galls him that Renji would likely accept a “no”, if Byakuya were capable of resisting his fukutaichou on his knees, or bent over a desk moaning helplessly.

It seems he must accept that he is not.

A knock on the doorframe. “I am busy,” Byakuya says, and there is a muffled “okay, Taichou,” in response then Renji’s fading footsteps. It’s true, up to a point; he has been attempting to complete next week’s budget report for days, and despite his usual ruthless efficiency, work is beginning to accrue.

Nevertheless, at 6.01 pm he puts aside the incomplete report and walks home in daylight for the first time in weeks. In the morning, on his desk there is a report and a note:

_These are my recommendations for squad placement of the new recruits. Thought you might want to talk about it at some point._

_Renji_

And Byakuya doesn’t know if he wants to burn it or slip it into his desk drawer.

 

= 

 

Byakuya spends the next three days similarly, not leaving his office, telling the few people brave enough to approach the door that he is busy, and leaving the moment the official working day is over. He finds himself with a shocking amount of free time to practise calligraphy, take walks in the gardens, and catch up on his reading. There is time for a few early nights, and to linger over a long dinner.

When he goes to bed, he stares at the ceiling for hours on end. Rukia seems pleased that he is suddenly present at dinner with her, and chatters enthusiastically about thirteenth division, but he catches her side-eyeing his plate from which he has eaten exactly three bites.

Perhaps it will take longer for a resolution than Byakuya had initially anticipated, and he will simply have to ignore his growing impatience. Eventually, after some distance from his fukutaichou, he will be able to concentrate on his work once more, and things can go back to normal.

On the fourth day, while sliding his hair into the kenseikan, he notices there are purplish bruise-like discolourations under his eyes, but he ignores them. His body is tired; eventually the biological imperative to sleep will take over, and they will disappear and he will be able to think clearly. It is just a matter of time.

There is a tentative throat-clearing from the other side of the room, and Byakuya stifles the urge to stuff the still-incomplete budget report under some requisition paperwork in case his secret is discovered.

“Come in, Ikase-san.”

The third seat bows low, and takes a small step forwards. “Please forgive my intrusion, Kuchiki-Taichou. I spoke to Nanao-fukutaichou, and she informed me that yours is the last budget report to be submitted before tomorrow’s meeting. I thought perhaps you had forgotten to submit it.”

“Ah,” says Byakuya. “Thank you; I will attend to it immediately.” He looks back down at the report on his desk, and picks up his brush. There is no reply, nor does Ikase leave. He writes one line, then looks back up to where Ikase is standing, hands clasped in front of him while he looks at the floor. “Is there anything else you wish to say, Ikase-san?”

“I hope you do not feel I have overstepped my bounds, Kuchiki-Taichou…but some members of the squad are concerned, because you have been – absent, recently,” he says, eyes still on the floor.

“I see. You may inform everyone that there is no need to worry; I have simply been a little preoccupied lately.” A pause, and neither of them move or speak. “You may go, Ikase-san.”

“Hai, Kuchiki-Taichou.” Ikase bows and departs at a swift trot. 

Byakuya bites down on a number of curses, and hurriedly fills in the last of the report.

He decides to put in an appearance at training, since it’s the first time the new recruits have been properly integrated. It’s still easy to spot them; when they notice him watching from the side, they look terrified, while everyone else looks merely intimidated. When Renji sees him, he looks over, nods briefly, and refocuses on leading the training session.

Renji is in his element here, teaching  Zanjutsu. He holds his zanpakuto out and runs his hand down the flat of the blade, transforming it into its jagged shikai form. “To learn your Zanpakuto’s name, the first thing you have to do is make a connection. There’s no point in worrying about all that “mastering your zanpakuto” stuff they taught you at the academy until you have. And the easiest way to do that is push yourself as far as you can while fighting.”  

He’s grinning widely now - his time at the eleventh is showing – but his audience is _rapt_. Byakuya wonders if Renji’s aware that he’s running one thumb along his Zanpakuto over and over. “So I want you to come at me. Yes, all of you!” He executes a swift Shunpo to give himself time to defend, and they swarm him. _Ineffectually_ , yes – getting in each other’s way most of the time – but still, there’s only one of Renji. A few minutes later, he hears from the middle of the pile, “All right, that’s enough – no, I’m fine,” and is on his feet before he has time to think about it.

A sea of black-clad bodies parts as he approaches Renji, whose shihakusho has been sliced along the ribs, and there’s a long cut exposed along with most of the left side of his chest. It’s not dangerous, but it should be looked at. “Do you intend to go to the fourth?” Byakuya asks.

Renji shrugs, and unsuccessfully squishes a grimace. “Nah, I’ll be fine. Don’t wanna bother them with this scratch.” He looks over at the offending trainee, who shrinks slightly but does not look away. “Nice trick, kid.”

It’s more than a scratch, and it might scar if not attended to. “I cannot have my lieutenant running substandard training sessions,” he finds himself saying. He reaches his hand out and pours healing reiatsu onto the gash. Renji shudders, but does not flinch; it’s as if he doesn’t even remember the last time Byakuya’s hands were on his ribs. Byakuya remembers. If he looks closely, he can see faint yellowish marks from faded fingertip-shaped bruises, and he ends the healing kidou before it can disintegrate under his hands.

“You didn’t have to do that. But arigatou, Taichou,” he says, with a small smile, and then turns back to the crowd. “All right, you lot, get into groups of three!”

Byakuya heads back to his office, and when he opens the window, the sounds of the training session filter through.

 

= 

 

Once a month, the captains (apart from Yamamoto) gather in a respectable place which serves excellent sake – and tea, for Unohana. A few times a year, Byakuya puts in a brief appearance to head off Kyouraku’s nagging.

This time, the distraction is almost welcome. Byakuya orders sake and settles into a corner, listening to Unohana speak to Ukitake warmly about the Ikebana club, and would the thirteenth like to be the next host of the quarterly display? On another table, Muguruma and Kenpachi are downing bowls of sake and laughing, punching each other on the shoulder, and the noise is loud enough that he has to strain to hear what Unohana is saying.

Kyouraku saunters over in his garish untied kimono and sits next to Byakuya, giving him no opportunity for a polite escape. “Oh, you made it, Kuchiki! Though you might want to slow down a bit, it’s too early to be drunk – unless you’re just exhausted, I suppose.” He’s smiling that damn self-satisfied smile, and Byakuya sits and drinks more sake in lieu of replying because there is no nonincriminating answer to this.  “Someone keeping you up nights?”

Byakuya imagines very vividly how it would feel to throw the sake bowl at Kyouraku’s face. It was a terrible idea to come here. He could request more much-needed sake from the hovering assistant, but instead he wordlessly picks up Kyouraku’s own jug of sake and pours himself the rest.

“Oh, you mustn’t tease him, Shunsui. I’m sure there is just important business keeping him in the office till late at night,” Ukitake adds, smiling.

There is a pause, and Byakuya remembers that he is expected to reply, ideally without suggesting that further prying may result in the removal of limbs. “It has been a stressful week,” he says – which happens to be true, and the bowl of sake in front of him is exactly what he needs. If he glares over the rim of his bowl while drinking deeply, it is entirely accidental.

 

It’s not that much later when Byakuya manages to extricate himself a little unsteadily from the gathering. It’s Unohana who unsettles him most, by the end, smiling serenely over her cup of tea and making no comment. The sake has made everything blurry, but has not improved his mood much – though, all told, it’s more the sedative properties that he’s counting on tonight. His sleeplessness is apparently clear to everyone now, and something must be done before he is subject to yet more indignities.

His walk home thus far has been mostly silent, but as he rounds a corner raucous voices fade into his hearing.

“Some days, I really fuckin’ miss the eleventh, you know?” It’s Renji’s voice, shockingly rough, and – yes, Byakuya can see him from the other side of the courtyard. The two figures with him laugh. Renji slings his arm around one of them – Yumichika? – who kisses his cheek, and the bald one punches the top of his arm.

“Well, we’re still here for when you need your regular dose of debauchery,” Ikkaku says, raising a bottle to his lips and taking a swig.

“It’s good for the soul,” Yumichika says. Renji guffaws, and drinks deeply from the bottle that Ikkaku holds up to his lips.

Byakuya wants to move, but his body is betraying him; it’s the sake or the tiredness or perhaps both, and it’s entirely his own ridiculous fault, but all he can do is watch Renji and those two louts from the eleventh laugh and take swigs from the shared bottle as they make their way across the courtyard. Yumichika pulls the tie out of Renji’s hair and ruffles it a bit, and though Renji bats him away, they both end up laughing and Renji’s arm retakes its position around Yumichika’s shoulders.

At length, they disappear from sight and fade from hearing, and Byakuya needs to get home immediately, because his stomach is keen to expel its contents and he will be damned if he throws up into the streets of the Seireitei. There’s little but sake _to_ throw up, because his dinner was unappealing, and watching those three stagger about, so uncivilised and overly familiar, is even more unappealing. Renji’s arm round Yumichika’s shoulder replays itself in his mind for the rest of the short walk home, and he finds himself _angry_ , with himself and with his body and the distance from the front door to a suitable place to be discreetly sick, and with Renji. For behaving in a way that disgraces the sixth, for acting as if he’s not affected in the slightest by what’s going on between them, and for starting this – this _thing_ that Byakuya, for the life of him, cannot seem to control.

The only saving grace of the entire evening is how swiftly he passes out on reaching his bed.

 

=

 

 

The following morning feels like a concentrated dose of his own bad judgement. He rejects breakfast with loathing and demands mint tea instead, and he drinks it slowly, hoping the aching of every joint in his body will subside. The pain between his temples does not bear consideration, and his face appears waxen and slightly greenish in the mirror to make up for the lessening of the dark circles after a night of actual sleep.

By the time he finally manages to drag himself out of the house, much later than he usually leaves, Rukia is departing. She turns to look at him, and her expression fill with concern. “Are you all right, Nii-sama? You don’t look well.”

“I am fine,” he snaps, even though he is in fact feeling execrable, but he has lost all patience for this sort of conversation.

Rukia flinches a little, but persists. “It’s just – you have been looking tired for a while now, and this morning you look tired _and_ ill, and I worry – ”

“Stop asking about things that aren’t your business!” It’s as if there’s some sort of _conspiracy_ – does no one in soul society have anything better to do than torment him about how _tired_ he looks, prod him to _relax_ , of all the ridiculous things, or pry into his _very private_ sex life? To add insult to injury, it seems that the only person in the whole of Soul Society capable of leaving him alone is Renji, who also just happens to be the one person he doesn’t in fact _want_ to leave him alone.

Rukia does not look cowed. In fact, she is tilting her head at him speculatively. “Nii-sama…you have a hangover,” she says, and there is a hint of a smile in her voice which makes him seriously consider sending a hell butterfly to the sixth to tell Renji that he will not be coming in.

“I may perhaps have overindulged,” he says, jaw clenching, “But the real problem here is that you felt the need to speculate about my private life to Ukitake-Taichou, and now all the captains seem to think it is appropriate to _interrogate_ me about it.”

“Oh,” Rukia says, not sounding nearly sorry enough. “It was just an idle comment. I didn’t mean to cause you any problems.” She pauses, then continues, “but Nii-sama, I don’t ask about you working late or looking tired because I want to know about private things. It’s because it looks like you’re unhappy.”

Byakuya stops abruptly and looks at her more closely. “I – truly?” And it paints an entirely different picture of Rukia’s motives than the one he had in his head, of her sitting in Ukitake’s office, gossiping about him with smug smiles on their faces. Instead, she has been watching him come home late and not get enough sleep, and worrying about his happiness?

She nods. “Of course, Nii-sama. You don’t have to tell me about your life. All I want is for you to be happy, whether you’re seeing someone or not.” Offering him a smile, she bows slightly and turns to head in the direction of the thirteenth.

 

=

 

 

Byakuya finally arrives at the sixth, grateful for a familiar setting when everything else – his stomach, his thoughts, and the rest of the world, it seems – is lurching around confusingly. Ikase intercepts him on the way to his office, and mercifully refrains from showing the slightest reaction to his captain’s appearance.

“Abarai-fukutaichou is in the practise yard with some of the seated officers, so he asked me to let you know that he will be in his office this afternoon if you wish to discuss squad placement of the new recruits.” Ikase says, walking beside him.

“Arigatou, Ikase-san,” he says, and Ikase bows and continues past Byakuya’s office door.

Byakuya sits down with relief. He should speak to Renji this afternoon; he cannot continue to avoid his fukutaichou indefinitely, and the new recruits need to be sorted. If he is honest…he wants to resume speaking to Renji. He wants to spar with Renji, and watch him fail miserably at learning kidou, and hear his off-colour jokes, and see his grin when Byakuya joins in squad practise and terrifies all the unseated squad members. He wants, in fact, to go and sit in Renji’s office and talk about the new recruits, and hear Renji’s ridiculous nicknames for all of them.

And for any of those things to happen, he is going to have to have some sort of…air-clearing discussion. Probably he will have to apologise. It’s entirely possible that, Renji being an unsubtle man, he will have to directly state that they should stop having sex to preserve a working relationship which used to function well.

It must be done, however. Byakuya makes some tea, and steels himself. After all, everything will be sorted appropriately, and he will be getting what he wants – almost everything he wants.

 

= 

 

Byakuya approaches Renji’s door with some trepidation, and more than a little difficulty remaining upright. His conversation with Rukia is still echoing round his head, and he tries to hold onto it, because it led him to this decision. He knocks on the doorframe.

Renji looks up. “Taichou,” he says, and is that – relief? “Would you like some tea?”

“No,” Byakuya says. Renji’s face falls a little, and he hurries to add – “but I would like to speak with you.”

“All right.”

Byakuya sits down in the proffered chair, and immediately regrets it; the urge to pace is strong, despite his exhaustion. “This – situation cannot continue. It needs to be resolved.” He pauses, but Renji is just listening. “I – it is difficult for me to – ” _have this conversation/ maintain a professional distance_  “ – understand what  is happening. What…what is it that you _want_?” This is not going to plan at all. He does not need to know what Renji wants. It is not important how either of them feel about the brief period of indiscretion. _We should resume our working relationship_ , he wants to say, planned to say. _I miss it_ , he does not want to say.

But Renji seems to have relaxed a little, and he offers an odd smile. “Well – isn’t it obvious, Taichou? I like you.”

There is a silence. Byakuya has no planned response to this. This – is not in the script that he has rehearsed in his head; nothing remotely like this is in any of the ways he had predicted this conversation might go. He has nothing, except a racing pulse and Renji’s tentative smile and not nearly enough breath in his lungs.

“And it looked like you needed some space so I gave you some. And if there’s anything else you want then I’ll try to give you that, too,” Renji continues, as if Byakuya has not had enough of a shock for one day, as if this is a perfectly ordinary thing to say.

What spills out of Byakuya’s mouth entirely without forethought is, “ _Why?_ ”

Renji chuckles a little. “Because that’s what it’s like, to like someone. You want them to be happy.”

 Renji is the second person today, and the third person in his lifetime, to say that he wants Byakuya to be happy. Byakuya looks down, and his hands are shaking. His own stilted awkwardness must contrast sharply to Renji, who looks unsurprised, as if he was _waiting_ for this. The ground is shifting beneath Byakuya, and he doesn’t understand what’s happening, or where it is safe to tread. “You didn’t answer my question,” he says at last, and his own voice is alien in his ears, rough and plaintive, and he realises that at some point he must have stood, because he is out of the chair and several steps forward, an arm’s length from Renji.

Renji rolls his eyes. Then he takes a step forward so that he’s right there in Byakuya’s space, so close Byakuya can see the flickering pulse in his neck and smell him, and before Byakuya can get one single coherent thought through his head, Renji slides one hand along his jaw and kisses him.

And then there isn’t any choice at all; his eyes flicker closed of their own accord, and he feels his body leaning closer to Renji’s warmth, and he is lost. His hands are in fists at his sides, and only the last week of coiled tension is keeping him standing. He still hasn’t eaten anything and it’s making him lightheaded, so when Renji pulls back a scant inch with a soft exhale, he shudders and places one hand on Renji’s chest for balance. He opens his eyes, and wants to close them again when he sees the expression on Renji’s face. He looks _shattered,_ so painfully open that it’s hard for Byakuya to look at, and his voice breaks hoarsely as he says, “let me show you how it can be, Byakuya. Please.”

And all he does is stand there, looking like _that_ , with his hand still on Byakuya’s jaw, waiting.  There is no insistence at all in his voice, or his touch, and Byakuya can feel the heartbeat under his palm. He has a choice. Renji is asking, and he should back away, should refuse, and he even thinks that would be all right – for Renji.  
  
As for him – Rukia would spend a lot of time looking at his tired face at the breakfast table, and wishing he were happier.

He does not have it in him to make that choice. He _wants_ : to see if he can be happy, to see what it is Renji wants to show him, so he makes the smallest movement and leans forward till he’s kissing Renji again, properly this time, and Renji’s kisses are so soft that he can hardly bear the feeling. He reaches up and removes Renji’s hair tie, because he needs leverage to pull him closer, so he threads his hand through Renji’s hair and holds on, pushing closer, his hand on Renji’s chest crushed between them. Renji slides a supportive arm around his waist and opens his mouth, and Byakuya is drowning in the feeling of Renji’s tongue sliding against his own, and the blistering heat that seems to be radiating from Renji’s skin, warming him from the inside out, into places he hadn’t even known he was cold.

Renji draws back from the kiss, resting their foreheads together. “There should be a bed, I think,” he says, and when Byakuya turns and heads for his rarely-used Captain’s quarters, Renji slips his hand into Byakuya’s.

It’s been such a long time since he was kissed, never like this, and longer since he took someone to bed, so the sudden intimacy has him hesitating and clutching at Renji’s hair. But Renji’s arm is around him, almost protectively, and Renji removes his haori and kenseikan so slowly, and it’s all right because they are both shaking, just a little.

When the kenseikan are gone, Byakuya feels suddenly naked, but Renji strokes his hair and murmurs, “I’ve always wanted to do this,” and Byakuya briefly wonders what he means by “always”, but the thought is lost in Renji pressing kisses on his palms and wrists, then carefully untying his sash.

Renji takes care of most of the business of clothing removal , while Byakuya holds on and slides his hands over Renji’s back and through his hair. He thinks he might fall if he doesn’t hold on, though they are already mostly on the floor. For a moment he’s worried that Renji will try and flip him over, and he tenses, but Renji keeps kissing him and moves them till they’re both sitting upright, then he straddles Byakuya, sliding down onto him so slowly he thinks he might fly apart.

Renji is so close like this, wrapped over and around him, red hair splaying everywhere, and Byakuya presses his face into Renji’s shoulder, blotting out his vision until the whole world is Renji’s constant murmuring of nonsense in his ear and his hands sliding up and down Byakuya’s back and the incredible warmth of his skin. He can’t control the shuddering of his body, nor the quiet gasps that work their way loose, so instead he muffles them against Renji’s shoulder.

Renji’s murmuring is growing more urgent, and Byakuya is rapidly losing all thought, so he slides his hand between them to stroke the underside of Renji’s cock. Renji moans at the touch, and Byakuya feels the sound reverberate through his chest. They near the edge in something like sync, and Renji tilts Byakuya’s head up to kiss him, then they’re still kissing as they come, Renji pulling Byakuya with him.

Renji attends to cleaning them, which is fortunate because Byakuya is utterly drained. It’s all he can do to lie back down, and though some part of him quietly balks at the idea of sharing a bed, the cumulative power of exhaustion and post-orgasmic haze pushes it into the background.

There is a heavy sensation in his body, and Renji’s arm is wrapped around him, warm and strong, but not constricting. He finds he can take a deep breath without any tightness at all in his chest, and before sleep takes him there is enough time to wonder if this is the burgeoning of that little thing that he is told is called _happy_.

 

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on tumblr at vorvayne.tumblr.com, where I do a lot of flailing about Bleach and various other things :)


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